


Released

by katie_delaney



Category: The Libertines
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:02:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_delaney/pseuds/katie_delaney
Summary: Sequel to Barred. Peter is set free.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter looked up at the mansion looming over him with considerable apprehension. He’d felt pretty nervous when Carl had told him that ‘his boys’ would pick him up, sort him out with some clothes, and take him back to his house. He was expecting some terrifying looking thugs to pick him up and take him to some half falling down drug den in the arse end of Camden. He probably would have coped with that better than the suited and booted, broad shouldered, shaved headed thugs who came to pick him up.

They passed him clothes, which although they looked like just a normal shirt and jeans, felt extremely expensive. Maybe he was just too used to the starchy prison clothes. It felt like kisses on his skin as he slid his arms into the powder blue shirt…a shirt that he was sure would match Carl’s eyes far better. He frowned as he stepped into the trousers, they felt almost tailored to his size, he had no idea how Carl had guessed them so accurately.

Feeling decidedly alien in his new clothes, he followed the suited goons out of the prison and into the limo waiting in the car park. He didn’t say a thing - as if he was expecting this - all of it, and not as if Carl still hadn’t told him half of who he was, or what he was in for. All he told him was that he just had a few more months than he did. When Peter was musing about where to go after he got out of prison, quite possibly to his despairing mother’s house, Carl had told him that he was more than welcome to go and stay at his house.

“Don’t worry about food and money and stuff, it’ll all be sorted.”

Peter should have probably guessed then that there was something suspicious going on. When they pulled up outside the mansion in Surrey, instead of the rundown flat in Camden, Pete couldn’t help but let his blank mask break into a picture of surprise and confusion. He tried to put his mask back on as the limo door opened and one of the men pulled open the door for him.

Pete downed the last of his champagne (it had seemed rude not to drink it, it would be his first non alcoholic beverage since he’d been inside), put the glass down and got out with all the authority he could muster. Like he was completely used to being treated like a celebrity. Or…a celebrity’s fuck toy, he guessed, since that was basically what he was. Carl happily called him his boyfriend, and liked to strut around with his arm round his shoulders/waist/on his arse, but Pete was fairly sure fuck toy was more accurate for how possessive Carl was…or how constantly horny he was, at least. Pete had become fairly accustomed to being flipped onto his back/pushed to his knees/bent over convenient surfaces and fucked within an inch of his life. Sure, Carl let him top occasionally, which he finally had after those excruciating first weeks, but it was clear which he preferred.

That was another reason Peter was feeling a tad apprehensive about these next few weeks. Carl really hadn’t been clear about how much longer he had to serve, he just shrugged and said “not too much longer, I’ll be out before you know it.” Quite how he was supposed to survive more than a week after he was used to being fucked several times a day, Peter had really no idea.

When he’d said this to Carl he’d just smirked at him.

“Well, I don’t expect you to be a saint, I’m sure you’ll find someone in my house to amuse yourself with.”

Pete had huffed at this. He’d very quickly realised that he’d fell head over heels for the idiot, which was very stupid of him he knew, but there wasn’t very much he could do about it.

“I don’t want anyone,” he’d whined at Carl as they’d laid in bed on their last morning before he left. “I want you.”

“Soppy shite,” Carl had chuckled at him, ruffling his hair. “Wait till you meet my butler. You’ll soon change your tune.”

Peter had rolled his eyes, assuming he was joking, but now, as he approached the front door he had a feeling that Carl had been all too serious.

He took a deep breath and raised his finger to the door bell, but the heavy door creaked open before he did.

Peter was glad he wasn’t carrying anything at that moment, because he surely would have dropped anything he was carrying onto the floor. The boy who greeted him at the door had to be the one Carl was talking about. He was shorter than Carl, slightly skinnier, with messy dark hair, a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his lips which made Pete go slightly weak at the knees. Or at least…tense in other places. He was wearing a suit, but there was something about the way it fit him, slightly too big, not pressed quite correctly, that made him look more like one of the miscreant orphan boys out of Oliver than a smart and tidy butler. Peter liked him already.

“You must be Mr Doherty,” the boy said, grinning widely at him and extending his hand. “I’m Mr Barat’s butler. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Peter took his hand, hoping it wasn’t quite as sweaty as he thought it was. His fingers felt small in Peter’s hands and he had to concentrate very hard to think of something other than how much smaller the boy was than him, how easy it would be to flip him around on a bed, toss him around in a bedroom…bathroom…whatever. It shocked him, he was so used to Carl fucking him and feeling so…overpowered by him, it had been a long time since he’d wanted to be at the other end of the equation. Holding someone down while he fucked them, feeling them writhing underneath him, screaming…

He realised he’d probably been holding the boy’s hand for far too long.

“Peter, please,” he said quickly, dropping his hand and looking past him into the ridiculously sized hallway.

“Yes sir,” Drew said, nodding. Peter started to wish Carl had supplied him with trousers made a tiny bit looser.

He took a deep breath and tried to look around and admire the wallpaper or something.

“Mr Barat asked me to show you around, and see to all your needs,” the boy said, spinning his shiny heels round on the marble tiles with a squeak and clicking away across the floor.

“Oh, thank you,” Peter mumbled, following him, trying to look where he was going and not to stare constantly at his arse.

He was shown around a dozen rooms, probably more, the main ones he remembered were the kitchen “though just ask me if you want anything, I’ll make it for you”, the swimming pool “the saunas just through that side door, I can get you some trunks if you like”, the library “Mr Barat said he thought you’d like this one best, he said to read whatever you liked, and if you can’t find a title you’d like, just ask me and I’ll find it for you”, and Carl’s bedroom “Carl said you’re to sleep here, your ensuite bathroom’s just through here, and he had some clothes brought in for you in this wardrobe.”

Of course he did.

“I’ll leave you to get settled, your things are just by the bed,” he said, gesturing to the pitiful looking bag containing the few things he’d had in his pockets when the dreaded day had arrived.

“Thanks,”

“Would you like dinner?”

“Erm, yes please.”

“How does six sound?”

“Yeah, perfect,” Peter said, nodding, he felt awkward, embarrassed, he really wasn’t used to being waited upon like this.

“Okay, feel free to look around, he says to treat everything here as if it were your own,” he added and Pete was sure he must be imagining the suggestive tone in his voice.

“Thanks.”

Drew smiled at him and walked off, attending to…whatever the hell it was that butlers attend to. Peter stood in the middle of the room for a second, his brow furrowed, still with the same sense of stunned shock as  when they pulled up outside the place. He tried to put it together in his head. Carl was in prison, Carl was basically the boss of the prison, Carl lived in the house the size of a small village, Carl had his own butler, for Christ sake. This made Carl what…a drug lord? A mob boss? It didn’t really make him that much more wary of him, he knew Carl must be someone like that in prison for him to be treated the way he was…but still. He could never have expected this.

From the lack of any other idea as what to do next, he walked over to his tiny bag of possessions and tipped them out on the bed. His battered wallet, crushed cigarettes, plastic lighter and rusty keys looked even more destitute against the expensive satin sheets.

He didn’t realise how much he was gasping for a fag until he saw the cigarettes, and wondered if you were allowed to smoke in here. He saw an ashtray on the bedside table and breathed a sigh of relief, then smiled as he saw a box of unopened lucky strikes next to it and a fancy lighter. He chucked his old cigs and lighter into the bin, along with his keys, good riddance, and put his wallet away in the bedside table. He sat down on the bed, nearly falling back into it as it sunk underneath him, he was so used to Carl’s bunk bed.

He rocked back and forth a bit, trying to get used to the softness beneath him, then peeled back the plastic on the packet of cigarettes, plucking one out and putting it in between his lips. He couldn’t help his now natural reaction of flicking his eyes around the room, just to check no one was there to shout at him for smoking in a non smoking area. He wondered how long it would take for him to get used to doing what he wanted, when he wanted. He did have a fair amount of freedom in the prison since he was Carl’s…boyfriend, but he was still very aware of being under lock and key, within a timetable, within prison clothes, eating prison food.

He sparked up the lighter and took a deep breath in, sighing it out again in relief. He looked around, feeling strange. He wasn’t used to this many colours, even though Carl wasn’t exactly a floral person, it was still more colour than the usual prison white, blue and grey. He couldn’t help but feel at a loss. He stood up and walked over to the bay window, it was 4pm, the winter night was already closing in, but Peter could just make out the green of the gardens surrounding the house and the tall evergeens that lined the bottom of the garden. He could just catch the reflection of the trees in the lake that sat below them, the lights of the house twinkling slightly in water.

He felt strangely anxious, though he supposed it wasn’t that strange, being in an unfamiliar place - and such a huge unfamiliar place - when he was so used to being in the same small cell, with the same man, most of his evenings. A wave of loneliness hit him so hard he almost had to reach for the window ledge to regain his balance.

He didn’t feel like himself, in a strange place, in strange clothes. He guessed he’d found a new identity for himself in the prison, even if it was as Carl’s boyfriend, and now that he was removed he had no idea who he was at all, or what he wanted. He’d never really considered what he was going to do when he left prison, all he’d really been worried about was having a roof over his head, and once Carl had solved that problem for him he had just been worrying about surviving being away from Carl for so long. He’d never really thought about what he might like to do with his time. With his life now.

He’d never really been one for much forward planning though. Lofty day dreams and aspirations of grandeur, maybe, but he was never really one for practical forward planning. His day to day goals tended to be to stay alive, find something to eat, not to fall over, not to OD, to try and occasionally call his mother and not to get caught. He guessed that last one hadn’t really worked out so well.

At least he’d remained relatively clean in prison. However, he had a feeling that since Drew was so keen on attending to his needs that he’d not have much trouble obtaining anything like that if he wanted. He was feeling sensible enough though - at the moment anyway - to realise that spending however long it was that Carl would be gone completely fucked off his face was probably not a great idea. He’d probably end up upside down in the swimming pool, and it seemed like a bit of a clichéd way to go.

Instead he decided to go and sit in the library for a bit, and see if he could lose himself there for a while. He had spent a lot of time in prison reading, and writing, which was probably why when he finally found his way back down to the library, that he found a blank leather bound notebook and a ballpoint pen sitting waiting for him.

He’d just about got used to the size of the massive circular room lined with heavy oak book cases and settled himself down on one of the leather arm chairs when the door creaked open.

“Oh, sir, it’s freezing in here, let me light you a fire…”

“Oh…thanks,” Pete said absently as Drew clicked across the wooden floor and dropped down at the giant fireplace, lighting it up with a whooshing sound that made Peter think he might have left the gas on a tad longer than he should have done. He wondered how much experience he had at ‘butlering’ or whether Carl had simply plucked him off the streets because he thought he’d looked pretty in a suit.

“Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee, something stronger?”

“Just tea would be lovely, thanks,” Pete said, then cringed at himself. Lovely…he sounded like someone’s mum.

“Normal tea or something else? I have Earl Grey, Lady Grey, Dar…”

“Normal’s fine,” Pete cut him off.

“Excellent sir, sugar?” he asked, whirling up and round from the fire again.

“No thanks,” Peter said, trying not to imagine throwing him down in front of the fire and fucking him senseless.

“Very good, I’ll just get that for you.”

He clicked out of the room again and creaked the door closed. At least he wouldn’t ever be able to sneak up on him.

He was forced to eat his thoughts as he succeeded in losing himself in his book but then jumped halfway out his skin when the boy cleared his throat again.

“Dinner’s ready, sir.”

Once he’d got his breath back he nodded and tried to pretend he hadn’t half yelped and thrown his book a few inches in the air.

“Thank you.”

“This way.”

Peter was incredibly relieved, it had taken him quite a long time to find the library again. He was sure he went past the swimming pool twice.

He lead him down several corridors.

“Here you are sir,” he said.

The room wasn’t actually as large as he was expecting, he felt sure the boy had shown him a large room with a huge dining room at some point. This one was really quite cozy, a simple small table that would seat about four at a push and a large window out across the garden.

“This is Mr Barat’s private dining room, I imagined you’d be more comfortable here. Would you like some wine?”

“Yes please.”

“Red? To go with the beef?”

“That’d be lovely.”

Peter sat down and Drew disappeared again, swiftly returning with a plate of the most delicious food Peter thought he’d ever seen. Possibly because he’d essentially been living off school dinners for the past…god knows. He didn’t like to think about how much time he’d spent behind those bars. It took him a while to realise what it was, once he got past the fact that it looked and smelt more amazing than anything he’d seen in months. Sunday dinner.

“Is it Sunday?” he asked the boy, frowning, realising he had absolutely no idea.

“It is, sir.”

“Did you cook this? It looks amazing.”

The boy snorted in laughter then coughed and regained his straight face.

“No, sir, sorry…excuse my rudeness, I struggle to cook a pot noodle.”

Peter laughed, he was about to ask the boy if he’d be joining him, but he spoke first.

“Enjoy your dinner, sir.” He disappeared once more.

Peter sighed, feeling the overwhelming sense of loneliness sweep over him once more, but told himself not to be ungrateful, this was more than he ever expected, more than he deserved, to be sitting in this luxury. If Carl hadn’t offered him this sanctuary he’d surely be out on the streets, or in some god awful bedsit, people crammed in around him and feeling twice as alone.

He sipped the wine, thinking it might take the edge off a bit. He thought it wasn’t really surprising - he was used to his lovers near constant company - suddenly being jolted into this silence and space was bound to leave him feeling desolate. He tried to enjoy his meal anyway, telling himself he should be grateful, and drinking the wine probably a bit faster than was wise.

He finished his meal and sat nursing his wine and staring out into the dark night. Eventually he drained the last of his glass and scraped back his chair. The boy appeared at the door almost instantly, Peter was sure he must have been waiting in the hallway.

“Would you like me to take the rest of the bottle to the library?”

Against his better judgement, Peter agreed and followed Drew back up to the library. Time passed quickly, as he knew it was likely to as the wine smoothed out his anxieties…but perhaps only deepened the sense of loss and loneliness. He knew he was being ridiculous, it wasn’t as if he was bloody dead and he was never going to see him again.

He put the bottle down with a decisive thud and dragged himself up, groaning already at what his head was going to feel like in the morning. He somehow found his way back to Carl’s room and made himself brush his teeth with the brand new toothbrush that had been set out for him and gulp down a glass of water.

He moved the pyjamas to the side though, he hadn’t slept in pyjamas for years. This was the bit he was looking forward to least, sliding into cold, empty sheets. Nobody there to keep him warm. He quickly dropped his clothes to the floor, not bothering to fold them and slid in between the sheets, trying to get it over and done with as quickly as possible. He almost yelped in surprise as he felt warmth against his bare skin, ripped back the sheets and realised it was obviously a hot water bottle. He rolled his eyes, but still mentally thanked whoever put it there on this cold night in this big cold house and wrapped himself around it.

He didn’t feel the slightest bit sleepy though. He sighed. He’d thought the wine would have at least helped with that. Maybe he should have asked the boy for another bottle.

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine something nice; Carl, his ridiculously good looking butler. He wonder if Carl had shagged him. Surely he had. Why else keep someone that pretty but obviously inexperienced and a bizarre fit for the job around? Surprisingly the thought didn’t make him jealous, like it had before, with Chase. Then everything had felt unsure, but since he’d been pushed into the mattress enough, hard enough, consistently enough, passionately enough, for him to be reassured that he was the one Carl wanted most. He knew he could have anyone he wanted, but it was Peter he chose to keep in his bed, in his cell, between his legs. No, the thought didn’t make him jealous, it made him hard as hell.

He tried to imagine them together and nearly made himself dizzy; the idea of how possessive and dominant Carl could be, and how soft and obviously ready to please the boy was…Christ. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he stroked his hand up and down slowly. It felt alien to have his own cock in his hand for a change, it had been a very very long time since he’d had to get himself off. How can your own hands feel so strange? So cold? So hopelessly inadequate? Even with the wildest of fantasies…

He nearly hit the ceiling as he heard a few knocks on his door, his hand flying away from his cock, yanking the quilt up over himself, feeling like a teenager caught by his mother at two o’clock in the morning.

The door creaked open painfully slowly and Peter sat staring in an agonising mix of anticipation and horror as the boy pushed open the door. He could only just see him in the light coming in from the hall. He reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp.

He saw the boy then, walking towards the bed and smirking knowingly, his fingers slowly moving down his shirt, popping open the buttons and revealing skin every bit as pale as Peter had imagined it to be.

Fuck.

Peter watch him, more stunned than he’d been all day, all the more convinced now that he must be dreaming.

“I…” Peter said, thinking he really should say something before the boy slipped off his boxers and crawled into the bed with him.

“It’s okay,” the boy said, “Carl said you’d be feeling lonely. He told me to come and keep you company.”

Pete spluttered at this.

“It’s fine,” the boy said, sliding in on top of him.

Pete moaned at the sudden heat on his skin and arched up towards him needily as he placed his lips softly against his own.

“What’s your name?” Pete muttered against his lips.

“Drew,” the boy muttered back, kneeling either side of hips and sliding his hand down, stroking both their cocks together.

“Fuck,” Pete moaned, letting his head drop back. “Wait…” he said suddenly.

“What?” Drew asked, looking amused at him.

“He’s not paying you for this, is he?”

Drew burst out laughing on his shoulder.

“No! My god. He said you were cute and that you’d probably be horny if I wanted to keep you company…he was clearly right on both counts…” he purred in his ear, stroking his ridiculously hard cock pointedly. “How are you this horny already…he said I should leave you at least a week…”

“A week?!” Pete spluttered again. “Godsake, I’d have drowned myself in the swimming pool.”

Drew laughed in his ear.

“Did you and Carl…” Peter said tentatively. He didn’t mind either way, but if he didn’t ask it would just continue to niggle at him.

“Yeah,” Drew chuckled.

“I’m surprised he didn’t snap you in half…” Pete muttered, finally letting himself accept that this was happening and to run his hand down the boy’s skinny waist, his hips, down over his arse.

“I’m a lot less fragile than I look…you don’t need to be careful with me. Infact,” he said, dropping his lips to Pete’s ear and to a whisper. “The harder you fuck me the better, really. You do top, don’t you?” 

Jesus Christ.  He could feel the boys cock hard against his own, his arse seemed tiny under his long fingers, so fucking feminine and masculine at the same time, it was driving him crazy.

“Uh yeah,” Pete said, thinking he needed to try and form some words before the boy changed his mind.

“Mmm I’m so glad,” he said, sliding down and hovering his mouth over his cock. “I can’t wait to have this inside me…”

Pete spluttered again but was spared having to form further thoughts as Drew swept down on him with his mouth. Pete shrieked, apparently this ridiculous boy also came with a ridiculous tongue stud. Fucking hell. Pete wasn’t sure he was going to survive this.

He groaned as the boy moved his head faster, he wasn’t used to anyone being this giving, this submissive. It wasn’t that Carl was a selfish lover…he just…liked to be a bit more in charge. He made giving a blow job seem like an act of dominance, ownership…with Drew he felt like he was being…not serviced. That seemed like a strange word for it. And yet…“He asked me to tend to your needs.”

He was getting far too close, he grabbed a handful of Drew’s hair and yanked him back, threw him down onto his front. It had been far too long since he’d fucked someone properly, and if this is what he wanted…

“Fucking yes,” Drew muttered under his breath.

Well. Okay then.

“Lube?”

“Bedside table.”

Pete reached over and found a bottle rolling around next to his wallet. He was sure it wasn’t there before.

He didn’t bother to ask questions. He squeezed some on both his hands, wrapping one around the boy’s cock and sliding one of his fingers inside him.

“Yess…” he hissed, sliding his arse back against Pete’s fingers.

Pete’s breath catches at his desperate, obvious need as he squirm underneath him.

“How long?”

“God, weeks…” Drew panted back.

“Poor baby…” Peter purred, hearing Carl’s words on his lips.

“Fuck me, please…fuck…I…”

Peter pushed another finger inside, trying not to think about what it was going to feel like to have that tight heat around his cock, lest he fall apart completely.

“Please…please...Peter…” the boy was nearly sobbing underneath him, but he was having too much fun making all those moans fall from his lips. Maybe he did understand a bit why Carl liked playing with him so much. Besides, there was something he was looking for.

“Fuck!” Drew’s hips snapped back as he tilted his fingers just so. “There, there yes…just there…harder…Peter PLEASE…”

Oh god. Where the hell did he find this boy?

He pushed his fingers harder, faster, trying to keep his composure, playing at being Carl. What would Carl do? He yanked his fingers back suddenly and buried his head in between his legs, plunging his tongue inside him.

Drew squealed, he almost heard the sheets ripping as he dug in his nails.

“Ohh…ohhh…ohhh…Peterrrrrr…” Every noise that came from his mouth seem more obscene than the last. Peter felt dizzy.

“PETER!” A particularly large shout made Peter lift his head up and move over the boy.

“What do you want?” he purred in his ear, low, his best Carl voice.

“Fuck me,” it was nearly a sob. Poor thing. Why was it making his cock so hard? He didn’t know, but he went on regardless, sliding his slicked fingers to his cock, slowly pushing it inside him. Drew apparently had other ideas, moaning loud as he pushed himself back onto his cock.

“YES! FUCK…oh god…”

“You’re such a slut…you’re amazing…” Pete purred in his ear.

“Please please…move…Peter…” he whined.

“Alright alright,” Peter muttered, like he wasn’t having to hold his breath to stop himself coming just from the heat around his cock.

He grabbed his hips, moving slowly back and forth at first, trying to get used to the dizzying sensation.

Drew was moaning in frustration underneath him scraping his nails on the sheets and wiggling his hips. Pete held him still, his bigger hands winning, obviously stronger, holding him in place easily and forcing him to keep with the painfully slow rhythm. His moans turned to desperate whimpers and Peter took a little pity, soaring high with the amount of control he had over this boy; how desperate he was, how easily he’d thrown his clothes aside and begged to be fucked. Christ. He understood now, he understood why Carl had tormented him for weeks on end, teased him and nearly drove him out of his mind. It was fun.

“Do you want it harder?” he asked casually, like he couldn’t hear him nearly screaming in frustration underneath him.

“YES!” Drew screamed back at him.

Peter chuckled, such a Carl-like chuckle from his lips as he ran his finger through the boy’s hair, gripping tight, pulling back, making him arch up on his fingertips, pulling his hips back against him hard with his other hand. He pulled him all the way up, his back against his chest and started teasing the head of his cock, keeping painfully still inside him.

He really did sob this time as Peter held him still and continued to tease his slick fingers around and around the head of his cock. He was shaking in his grip and it was fucking electrifying, such control…

“Peter please…”

He relented, pushing him back down on his front and grabbing his shoulders, fucking him as hard and fast as he wanted, delighting in the screams and wails coming from underneath him.

“Yes YES FUCKING YES…”

Peter really wasn’t sure how the boy wasn’t snapping in two…but he just kept screaming for more, harder, pushing back against him, till Pete was screaming right along with him, so close…if he was really being Carl he’d come, then squeeze his fingers round the base of Drew’s cock, suck him till he screamed for it, then some more…then maybe let him come.

Pete couldn’t bring himself to be that cruel.

“You wanna come?”

“FUCKING YES…please…” the last cry was softer, beautifully desperate. It made Peter sorry that he hadn’t recorded the whole thing.

He wrapped his hand round Drew’s cock, let himself let go. He thought the echos of their screams might be stuck in his head forever. He dug his nails into Drew’s shoulders, which seemed to make him howl even louder, so he did it harder…then collapsed in a heap on top of him.

When the world had stopped spinning and his ears had stopped ringing, Pete realised quite what he’d done, how rough he’d been and that he was probably crushing the poor boy. He quickly flipped off him, turning on his side and was about to start a full blown apology, when the boy looked up at him with sated adoring eyes.

“God I needed that,” he sighed, going limp on the bed and closing his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Pete asked after a pause.

Drew grinned, still with his eyes closed

“I am so so good. Thank you. God. You’re almost as rough as he is.”

“I’m…not usually…” Pete stumbled.

Drew laughed.

“It’s fine. I’m not made of glass. You feel better?”

“Jesus, yes. I know he said you were cute but…” Pete mused running his fingers through Drew’s hair, across his cheek, down his neck, across the marks on his shoulders, his chest, his hips.

Drew smirked, opening one eye and watching Peter’s exploration of him warily.

“If you wanna go again you’re gonna have to give me a minute.”

“Jesus Christ no…can barely fucking move…d’you have any idea how much wine I’ve had.”

“Yes,” Drew laughed, “I was worried you’d be asleep.”

“If I ever am, please wake me up.”

“Yes sir,” Drew said in his butler voice then laughed. “You want me to stay?”

“Yeah, ‘s bloody freezing.”

Drew muttered an assertion and flipped off the light. Peter was trying to think this through, think the day through, trying to put the world right, so that it made sense again. Sleep had other ideas.  


	2. Chapter 2

Peter really had forgotten how much he used to like swimming. He couldn’t say it had ever occurred to him in the last few years to grab some swimming trunks and go to the nearest swimming baths, but now as he pushes his hands forward through the blissfully warm water he really thinks he should have. He’d thought he might as well since Carl had a beautiful pool he might as well and didn’t really have anything better to do anyway. It seemed like a better use of his time than sitting in the library, staring at the bookshelves and wondering quite how much time Carl had left to serve, and exactly how he got in there in the first place.

It was relaxing, the water on his skin, the silence as he dipped his head underwater. He felt fluid when he swam, less clumsy, gangly, like he usually did on his feet. He found himself wondering again, though, even with the calming repetitiveness of swimming lengths, how it was that he still had no idea who Carl really was. I mean, he did. He knew his mannerisms, he knew what food he liked, what music he liked, what books he liked, how he fucked, how he kissed, how he very occasionally liked to cuddle in bed in the mornings, but had no idea who he was. He had no idea where he’d grown up, was it here? A family home? Or did he buy this with his…drug money? Did he have a family, a past, an education?

Carl knew all this about him, not that it had taken a long time to tell. It wasn’t a very exciting story, a disappointed father and a fretting mother, a private school education, high grades, promising future; all going to shite when he went to University and became so disillusioned with life and everything that lay ahead of him, that he’d thrown it all away as quickly as he could. For a while the darkness which surrounded him in those places was comforting, it seemed to share in his desolation, his scrabbling for highs to take the edge off, of women and men to lose himself in…but after a while that became boring too. Satisfying his body’s cravings in the places he once thought had a kind of broken romance to them became as boring as going to the coop to get a sandwich to ease a growling stomach. By then of course, he was in far too deep to make any kind of change.

He was sure it was because his heart wasn’t in it any more that he had ended up with the cold metal slapped around his wrists and hauled in front of a judge. Two years. It still made him bristle, even though (and he was a bit loathe to admit it because he was still very aware that Carl was a very dangerous person and completely off his bloody rocker), but meeting him was probably one of the best things to happen to him in a very long time.

He wondered if now that he’d invited him into his house, he might feel a bit more up for sharing personal details, or maybe not.

He could ask Drew, but he was strangely elusive. The morning after he’d woken up to an empty bed and wandered down stairs in the ridiculously silky dressing gown laid out for him, Drew had appeared from nowhere in his suit and shiny shoes, calling him sir and acting like nothing had happened at all. Pete found himself unable to say anything to the contrary and played along, until that night the knocking came at his door again and the boy invited himself in.

Even then he didn’t feel like he could ask Drew what was going on. It was fairly clear what he wanted, fucking in the evening and waiting on him the rest of the time. He needed to build up the nerve to ask him to sit with him, in the library, at dinner, just so he might have a hope of tapping into any secrets he might know about Carl.

He dragged himself out of the pool, collapsed in the Jacuzzi, then the sauna for a bit, then meandered back up to Carl’s bedroom, dressing in the strange, but very tasteful, clothes Carl…or someone had picked out for him, and decided that he might set about exploring the garden today.

“Sir…you’re not going out there without a coat are you? It’s 2 degrees…”

Peter looked at him with a smirk he thought would make Carl proud.

“Are you my mother now?”

“That is essentially the function of a butler, I think.”

“Do you have a coat I could use?”

“Of course, sir,” he said, scuttling off to find him one.

Peter smirked to himself slightly, thinking that this really was an arrangement he could definitely get used to. He loved the way Drew looked at him so blankly, so innocently in the day, and then asked and screamed for the most obscene things in the dark. It was dizzying.

“You could show me round the gardens? I wouldn’t want to get lost…” Peter said as Drew insisted on helping him into his coat.

“Of course, sir,” Drew said, nodding and coming back with his coat.

The cold was biting when they walked outside but Peter quite welcomed it. It was refreshing, the icy breeze on his skin, let alone the thrilling feeling of being able to go outside when you wanted, to go where ever you wanted…the cold had never felt so good.

Drew led him down the garden, pointing out various plants and flowers that Peter had no idea about. Drew could have been making it up for all he knew, and he thought he quite possibly was. Peter felt bold and managed to conquer some of his shyness to slide his arm round Drew’s waist. Drew didn’t comment, just continued to walk with him until they reached the trees, to what Peter had thought was a pond from his window but turned out to really be more of a lake. They ambled around it, Peter drinking in the crisp morning air like it was nectar, definitely blowing away some of the cobwebs.

Drew suddenly stopped and Peter nearly found himself face down on the grass in his efforts not to walk into him. He was about to ask him what the matter was when he was spun around into his arms as he leant up to kiss him, hard; his fingers already diving into Peter’s coat, making short work of his belt buckle and sliding his icy fingers down into his boxers.

Peter blinked, trying to keep up with Drew’s urgent kisses and work out why he’d suddenly decided he needed his hands down his boxers in the middle of the garden. He wasn’t exactly complaining though as his deliciously cool fingers easily stroked him hard, leaving in gasping in Drew’s mouth and clinging onto the back of his coat for dear life.

He eventually gathered enough thought to reciprocate and pulled Drew closer to him, sliding his hands down to find Drew’s cock achingly hard and desperate, contrary to the passive look he’d had on his face while they’d been walking round the garden. He started to think Drew just had an exceptional poker face.

Drew whined as he wrapped his hand round his cock and Peter felt it already leaking over his fingers.

“Mmffck…yes…” he sighed, dropping his head on Peter’s shoulder as he stroked and slid his thumb over deliciously slick head of his cock.

“You wanna go back inside?” Peter asked, suddenly feeling very desperate to have the boy on his back.

“No, no, here…I want you to fuck me out here…”

“’s bloody freezing…”

“Pleeeease,” Drew whined in his ear.

Peter shrugged, picked him up and pushed him down onto the ground, hearing the frosty grass crunch underneath him as he did. He moved lower, pulling his clothes down just enough to get his cock free then slide his lips down it.

Drew moaned, arching his hips up and grabbing his hair, writhing beneath him like a man possessed already. He held his hips down, much to Drew’s whinging protests, and sucked until he felt him start to tremble underneath him.

“Peeeterr pleeease….” He gasped above him.

God. He’d never known any boy, or girl, ever this desperate to be fucked…at least not when there hadn’t been a significant amount of time in between. He was shaking and pleading like he hadn’t been touched in months.

He put his fingers to Drew’s lips and Drew needily took them in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and making Peter forget exactly what it was he was supposed to be doing with them. He stared at Drew’s big innocent eyes, felt his tongue piercing catch on his fingers and wondered if there was ever anyone such fun to play with.

He eventually pulled his fingers back and yanked down Drew’s trousers, sliding his fingers inside him. He was already fucking slick with lube. Pete jerked his head to him in question and Drew just grinned at him.

“Carl always used to like me to be ready for him…I thought I’d extend you the same courtesy.”

So much blood flooded to Peter’s cock he thought he might faint.

“Does that not please you sir?”

“Oh stop it,” Peter chuckled in his ear, “or I’ll come before I’ve even got inside you.”

Drew made a decidedly unimpressed noise.

Pete pushed open Drew’s legs and hovered his cock at his entrance, just wanting to hear him plead a little more.

“Peterrr…” he whined, wriggling his hips impatiently.

Pete smirked and pushed inside him slowly, making him whine underneath him.

“Mmm…” Drew sighed contentedly as Peter buried himself fully inside, taking a second to breathe the boy in, gather himself before giving him the fucking of a lifetime, outside, in the garden.

He started to move slowly, burying his head in Drew’s neck as he did, nipping and licking at it which only brought more moans to his ears. He’d never fucked him like this before, not yet, he’d always fucked him on his front, now Drew was spread open before him, hands pinned down on the floor where Peter was holding them tight and legs wrapped round his waist, pulling him in desperately.

He kept his face buried in his neck, not really sure what he’d see if he brought his head up and looked into Drew’s eyes. When Carl fucked him like this he always stared at him, straight into his soul, it felt like, it made his heart flip and his stomach explode with the most ridiculous butterflies. He was worried if he looked up at Drew he’d feel that too, and that seemed as if it would make things very complicated.

“Kiss me,” Drew whined in his ear, and Peter was forced to come out from his hiding place and meet his eyes.

It wasn’t as bad as he was expecting. There was no intense soul staring glare in Drew’s eyes, just playfulness and lust, matched perfectly by the indulgent grin on his face.

He leant down and kissed him, filthy deep kisses that made Peter push into him even harder, making Drew shudder underneath him.

“Yes, yes, yessss just like that…” he was hissing around his kisses, “oh! Fuck there…Peter there there there there…”

“I heard you the first time,” Pete chuckled in his ear, but did as he was told, moving faster, harder, apparently hitting something that was making Drew’s world explode.

“Peter, Peter PETER YES OH FUCK HARDER HARDER HARDERRRR….”

He had to be one of the most delightfully noisy people he’d ever fucked. He wondered how close Carl’s neighbours lived.

“Touch me, touch me fuck PLEASE!”

Peter smirked at him and wrapped his fingers round the base of his cock, making him squeal in frustration.

“Nhhh…fuck….” Drew writhed and twisted underneath him, but Peter easily held down his hands, pounding him into the hard ground, getting himself off and grinning at the poor boy beneath him.

“Ah FUCK yeah…” He cried out in Drew’s ear, shuddered above him and made sure he heard every moan in his ear.

“Would Carl make you wait?” he whispered dangerously in Drew’s ear. “Would he plug you up and make you put that pretty little suit back on and make you carry on with your work? Carry on waiting on me hand and foot, smiling at you knowing that behind that mask of yours you’re shaking in frustration? Nearly sobbing because you need to come so badly?”

“Noooo…” Drew whined in his ear. “No no no don’t…”

He sounded almost hysterical, Peter smirked.

“No, I think he would. That’s definitely what he’d do…but…luckily for you…I’m not Carl.”

He swooped back down him, taking his cock back in his mouth and sucking hard. Drew screamed, loud, yanking on his hair as he spilled into his mouth.

“FUCK yes yes yes yes YES!” he squealed, eventually stilling and panting his breath back underneath him.

Peter swallowed and licked his lips, then looked up at Drew innocently, deciding to play his game. He pulled back, standing up and tucking himself back in his trousers, waiting for Drew to stand up like nothing had happened.

“It is a beautiful garden, who looks after it?”

Drew sprang back up on perfect form, putting himself back together and leading the way back towards the house.

“Oh, you should see it in summer, it’s stunning. Carl has just one gardener in the winter, a few more in the summer to help him keep on top of things.”

They walked the rest of the way to the house in comfortable silence.

“Can I get you some tea, sir? Help warm you up a bit after all that cold air?”

“That would be lovely.”

“Will you be taking it in the library?”

Pete nearly choked on his own breath, but just about managed to hold back his laughter.

“Yes, please, that sounds perfect.”

“Very good, sir,” Drew said, nodding and walking back off towards the kitchens.

Peter laughed quietly to himself then made his way back up to the library, happily settling down into what had now become - in his eyes - his arm chair.

Drew came and lit a fire, brought him his tea and left him with his books.

After a while Peter realised that he still hadn’t really accomplished anything; no real talking had taken place, he was still none the wiser about Carl, and who on earth he really was.

He’d have to try harder tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter knew he was getting far too used to waking up in this beautiful house, in the luxury of these expensive, carefully ironed sheets. Of being waited on hand and foot. It was just far too easy to get used to, being waited on hand and foot, sun beaming in through the French windows as he swam up and down. He surprised himself with how easily he settled into the routine of doing basically nothing at all, reading, writing, swimming, fucking Drew within an inch of his life and then him disappearing again without a word…

But he was getting twitchy, and bored, he knew he was. And he knew he could get Drew to bring him anything he wanted, anything, to maybe make the time go a little faster until Carl came home. If he ever did come fucking home. He chased paranoid thoughts around his head at night; that maybe Carl had done something really awful, murdered someone, that he was in for life and he’d not see him again until he was old and grey. But that was ridiculous, really, he said soon, and he’d put him up here in his mansion, surely he wouldn’t have for so many years?

But what did he know about his motives? What did he know about Carl? He had flashbacks to the shower room, when Carl and his boys had stormed in and saved him from those boys. He’d been half conscious at the time, sure, but he’d still seen the look of malice on Carl’s face when he’d dragged the man off him and started slamming his head down against the tiles. He’s fairly sure that if Chase hadn’t told him to stop, Carl would have easily finished the job. He could see him as a killer, and Peter was deeply disturbed that this didn’t put him off at all. It just thrilled him a little.

No, what Peter found unconvincing about that theory of Carl doing life was that he was sure he wouldn’t be stupid enough to get caught for doing something like that. He’d have executed a better plan, demonstrated more cunning, had more friends to back him up.

He sat outside in Carl’s ridiculous hot tub contemplating this, next to Drew (he’d started to insist more and more that Drew join him in his activities, hoping it might make the absence of Carl a bit less obvious) and stared up at the blue skies and sunshine. The air was biting cold on his face, a winter wind whipping at his hair, but the water was warm and soothing, and the contrast lulled him into bliss as he lay next to Drew, their fingers interlaced, although Peter wasn’t that sure at what point that had happened.

“Drew…do you think Carl could murder someone?”

“Why, have you done something bad?” Drew asked, laughing, blowing cigarette smoke up into the cold air.

Peter rolled his eyes, of course Drew wasn’t going to give him a straight answer. He was impressed really that he’d got an answer at all. Drew barely spoke, and when he did give an answer it was usually enigmatic or sarcastic, and yet each day he felt as if he was getting to know the boy a little more. He supposed that when you’re fucking someone and spending most of your time together, words aren’t always that important in the getting to know you process. Drew was lying back against the side of the hot tub, his feet outstretched and floating up to the surface so Peter could just see the tips of his toes. He’d tipped his head back, his eyes closed, the picture of decadence. His hair was in his face, cigarette occasionally flowing to and from his lips, fingers interlaced with Peter’s, his thumb moving up and down against his palm in slow circles.

Peter splashed him.

Drew didn’t really react, just raised an eyebrow and opened one eye to glare at Peter for his childish behaviour.

“What was that for?”

“Never giving a proper answer.”

Drew just grinned.

“I have a feeling if Carl ever wanted somebody dead, he’d just get one of his boys to do it for him.”

“Aren’t you one of his boys?”

“Yes, but that’s not really in my job description.”

“I dread to think what your job description is.”

Drew laughed, putting his cigarette in between Peter’s lips. Peter sucked on it gratefully then sighed it out.

“How long have you known him?” Peter asked. He kept asking him these questions, thinking that maybe persistence was key and eventually Drew might give him an answer.

Drew smiled.

“Always.”

Pete frowned, trying to work out if that was an actual ‘always’ or some sort of metaphor.

“I grew up here,” Drew said, gesturing to the house and the grounds. “I mean…over there technically…” he said, pointing to the edge of a village on the horizon that Peter could just see if he squinted. “But more over here actually. Me and Carlos grew up together here, this is his family home.”

Peter was so shocked that Drew was actually imparting information to him, he couldn’t think of any sensible follow up questions and said instead.

“This must have been a beautiful place to grow up.”

“Mmm, I suppose, I don’t think you really appreciate it as a child. Carl certainly didn’t, he was always wanting to sneak out and get the train into London, get wasted, turn up back home three days later to just a shrug from his parents, that kind of thing.”

Peter nodded, not wanting to talk, thinking it might stop the outpouring of information he was being allowed for some reason. He was naturally nosy though, or inquisitive as he liked to think of it.

“What happened to his parents?” he asked, thinking that Carl wasn’t quite old enough to have dead parents. He wondered if there’d been some kind of tragic accident, thinking this might explain why Carl was quite as bonkers as he was.

“Moved abroad, left him the house.” Neglectful parents. Possibly even more damaging than dead parents.

“And he became a drug lord?”

Drew laughs.

“Why did you want some? Cos I think someone died in here once and he made a ‘no drugs in the hot tub’ rule…”

“I think you just ruined my hot tub experience.”

“I’m kidding. I’m pretty sure they got rid of the old one Fat Mike died in.”

Peter rolled his eyes and gave him a sceptical look, realising that his chance of a serious conversation about Carl had expired. Drew confirmed this by chucking his cigarette over the side of the hot tub and casually swinging himself around to straddle Peter’s lap with a splash.

Peter tried not to grin in delight as Drew grabbed the back of his hair with both hands and swooped down on him, plunging his tongue into his mouth and holding him down hard against the tiles, pushing his hard cock into Peter’s stomach. Peter groaned into his suddenly demanding kisses; he was never sure quite how Drew seemed to go from completely passive to groaning in his mouth horny, in what could sometimes be a mere second or two, but he was slowly getting used to it.

“Fuck fuck fuck…” he growled in Peter’s ear, scrabbling at his shoulders desperately until Peter took the hint and slid his hand down under the water and took hold of his cock.

“Mmm…” he purred into his ear, relaxing against him suddenly, running his teeth down his neck. “Fuck me, Peter…”

“What is it with you and having sex outside?” Peter tried to say casually, as if he weren’t writhing in between Drew’s legs.

Drew chuckled in his ear, lifting his hips up expectantly. Peter indulged him, pulling him down onto his cock. He knew he’d be ready, he’d got used to that now too as well. Drew cried out into the cold air, then grinned down at Peter, grabbing hold of the side of the hot tub and starting to happily bounce up and down on his cock.

Peter groaned, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes, thinking as he lay in the divine water with the divine bubbles and this divine boy riding his cock like nothing had ever made him happier, that he might have actually discovered the meaning of bliss. If only Carl were here…he shook the thought from his mind.

“Doesn’t it feel more natural to you?” Drew said breathlessly in his ear.

“What?” Peter asked, baffled.

“Having sex outside, I love screaming outside when I come, it makes me feel free.”

Peter blinked.

“I...” he really wasn’t sure what to say to that. The boy was ridiculously indecent. He could definitely see now that he and Carl had grown up together. He felt a jolt of jealousy, imagining they were each other’s first male lovers, that they’d lost their virginity together, tentative hands and curious mouths…though he couldn’t really ever imagine Carl being that tentative.

“Mmm…wait…” Drew pushed back off him and Peter watched dazed as Drew crawled off his lap and bent himself over the hot tub steps, curling his fingers round the metal rails.

“God you’re ridiculous,” Peter muttered under his breath as he half swam, half walked across the hot top towards him, shaking his head at the sight of Drew sticking his pale arse out of the water towards him.

He ran his fingers teasingly down his crease before sliding two fingers inside him.

“Peterrr….” Drew whined at him.

“Shh,” Peter purred at him, angling his fingers where he liked it, to pacify him a little.

Drew whimpered but still squirmed underneath his hands, obviously unsatisfied.

Peter slid another finger inside him and Drew gasped, his fingers squeaking on the metal handrails as he gripped tighter and arched his back.

“Mmm, still complaining?” Peter teased him, wrapping his other hand round Drew’s cock under the water.

“Oh f…” Drew’s head dropped down onto the tiles.

Peter grinned, his favourite plaything.

“More?”

“Yesss…” Drew hissed, pushing his arse back against his fingers.

Peter wasn’t quite so sure about it feeling more natural outside, if anything he thought it just seemed even more obscene, watching his fingers disappearing inside Drew’s arse, hearing him moaning, in broad daylight with a breeze on his skin.

He pushed deeper and Drew shuddered.

“Please, Peter…” he growled at him.

Peter reluctantly pulled back his hands, telling himself it’d be worth giving up a little playtime to be buried in this ridiculous boy.

“FUCK!” Drew yelled as Peter pushed into him with a splash.

He grabbed hold of his hips hard, knowing better now than to try and be at all gentle with the boy, and fucked him as hard as he could against the steps. He felt…as he always did, somehow still impossibly tight, hotter than hell and oh so sinfully good. Drew’s screamed profanities seemed to wash over him as well, sending him higher still, till he came without warning, surprising himself and screaming along with Drew as the white light hit him full in the face, nearly toppling him over backwards into the water.

He pulled back, yanked Drew out of the water, whirled him round and buried his head between his legs, delighting in just how light and pliant the boy was, letting him toss him around to his every whim. Peter slid his lips down Drew’s cock, thinking he didn’t spend nearly enough time with the boy’s cock in his mouth and mentally vowed to rectify it.

Drew gripped his hair hard and Peter shuddered, having slight Carl flashbacks, and then Drew really was screaming into the great outdoors, yanking at his hair and shaking underneath him as he came in his mouth. Peter swallowed, looking up to see a still grinning Drew above him.

“See? So much better than inside.”

Peter agreed with him, thinking it was probably for the best, but thinking to himself he’d be quite happy hearing him scream anywhere, really.

                                                                        *

Peter was sipping on tea at the table the next morning, staring out of the window absentmindedly as he waited for Drew to bring him his breakfast. As they became increasingly more familiar, Peter had begun to feel more and more awkward about Drew waiting on him, and had gone so far as to suggest that he could help Drew make dinner one evening, but Drew had looked horrified. “No guests in the kitchen!” He’d settled for convincing Drew to eat with him, telling him he was getting lonely and depressed eating on his own, which was more or less true, so it was more like having a very accommodating house husband…except Peter never went to work.

Drew brought Peter a full English breakfast, despite Peter sleepily mumbling that he wasn’t that hungry when he’d got up that morning, and probably just wanted some toast.

“Oh, a letter came for you today as well,” Drew said casually, although when Peter finished nearly dropping his tea and snapped his eyes up he found him grinning.

“Oh?” Peter said, trying not to sound too bothered.

“Mmm, here,” Drew said, pulling an envelope out of his blazer and handing it to him.

Peter tried not to yank it out of his hands, or get ketchup on it.

His name and Carl’s address were written on fancy looking cream paper in careful italics. Peter frowned; surely this couldn’t be from Carl, where on earth would he have got paper like that from in prison? He slid his fingers under the paper, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled out a small piece of cream card. There were just five letters on it, written in capitals, the same carefully drawn out italics.

Peter frowned at it for a while then looked up at Drew in puzzlement.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked him.

Drew kept his face carefully blank, leaning over Peter’s shoulder to look as he poured him another cup of tea.

“Haven’t got the foggiest sir,” he said, in the least convincing voice Peter had ever heard.

Peter was about to grab hold of him by his coat tails and make him explain it to him, but he’d already disappeared back to the kitchen. Pete huffed and looked down at it again, still none the wiser. He put it down carefully on the other side of the table from his baked beans, and mulled over it as he tried to eat some of his breakfast.

He’d cleared his plate and drained the last of his tea before he remembered that he was in possession of a smart phone, and could just bloody Google it. He rolled his eyes at himself and pulled it out of his jeans pocket, managing to unlock the disobedient thing on his third attempt and finding his way to the google app and carefully typing in the letters one by one, trying to stop autocorrect from foiling his attempts to spell it out correctly.

B. U. R. M. A.

_Search._

 


	4. Chapter 4

_Be upstairs ready my angel._

He could have at least specified a bloody day. It was like waiting in for a washing machine to be delivered. He voiced this comparison to Drew while Drew was serving him dinner and he nearly spilt the wine all over the table.

“I’m sure Mr Barat hopes you might find him a bit more exciting than a washing machine.”

“Well…” Peter took a generous glug of his wine. “I might if he would ever bloody come home.”

Drew just smiled knowingly and looked down at his place. Drew knew, Peter was sure of it, but no amount of needling on his part was getting him anywhere. He’d tried asking nicely, then he tried asking not so nicely, tying him up and almost making him come again and again until Drew was mumbling pure gibberish…but he still wouldn’t tell him. Peter had a feeling it was because Drew knew Carl would do far worse to. He was probably right.

                                                                        *

Peter gasped air back into his lungs as he forced his head up out the water. He shook his hair out, soaking the side of the pool, and rubbed his fingers across his chlorine stinging eyes. He panted back his breath. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to see if he could swim the entire length of the pool underwater. Still, he did it, and it wasn’t like he had anything else to achieve, sitting around this house all day, waiting for Carl to come home.

He pulled himself up and out of the pool, stretching and looking out over the sun coming up over the beautiful garden thinking he shouldn’t be so bloody ungrateful. He tilted his head back, pushing his arms up and back, letting the blood rush pleasantly from his head. He heard foot steps behind him and froze.  After a couple of weeks in the house with Drew he knows his footsteps anywhere. Those were not his.

Peter stayed frozen, his breath caught in his throat, arms left reaching up. He was losing all feeling in his fingertips but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want this moment to be broken when there was a possibility that Carl is standing behind him.

The footsteps got closer and Peter stared determinedly out in front of him, at the beautiful sunrise, the pink and orange spreading its way across the sky.

Firm hands on his naked waist, easily sliding over his wet skin, down into his swimming trunks and jerking him back abruptly.

A voice growling in his ear.

“You were meant to be waiting _upstairs_ , Peter…”

Peter couldn’t breathe. He trembled in Carl’s arms like…Drew trembled in his. It was embarrassing, to be switched back into this role.

“What? You wanted me to go upstairs and wait for you…for a week?”

His heart leapt at the sound of Carl’s low chuckle. Peter broke out of Carl’s grip and span round, throwing his arms round, clutching him tight and lifting him slightly ever so slightly off the ground.

Carl cried out, probably due to the fact that Peter was soaking wet. Peter buried his face in that hair that he’d missed so much, breathed deeply, the smell of his hair, his skin. He was surprised that Carl was allowing this for so long, letting him picking up off the floor like a girl, drenching him, and standing there… _smelling_ him for godsake. Then he realised that Carl’s arms were clamped around Peter’s shoulders tight, his legs wrapped around his waist and that his face was pushed hard into Peter’s neck.

This wasn’t how Peter saw this going. Carl’s long awaited return. He imagined he’d be naked much faster than this. He was surprised how light Carl is in his arms. He’s not sure how he’s only just noticing that Carl is a lot smaller than he is. He’s sure it’s the way he holds himself, or his attitude that stopped Peter from clocking the difference. He’s really only the same size as Drew, and Peter can toss him around the bed like a girl.

Peter wasn’t sure how long they stand there like that, clutching each other for dear life, but eventually his arms got tired, the water started to feel cold on his skin, and he slowly lowered Carl back down. Carl unwrapped his legs from around his waist and pushed him back.

“Drew, can I have we have a towel please? And some fresh clothes?”

“Of course, Sir.”

It’s very strange seeing Carl like this, in his own home, in his own clothes. He’s so used to seeing him in the generic orange trousers and his white tank top that seeing him in black skinny jeans, a stripy top that seems somehow indecent, and a leather jacket that sends Peter’s imagination spinning out of control. It all looks like it cost more than Peter has ever made in his life. Carl’s shaved and had his hair cut so now Peter can see those blue eyes shining out even brighter now they’re not completely covered by his fringe. It would all look perfect if he hadn’t just been bear hugged by his soaking wet gangly…boyfriend?

Ah, there, Peter felt it, the rush of lust he was expecting to feel at the start. The flip of his stomach, hair rising on his skin, blood rushing to his cock…but Carl had stepped back from him and something about how he was standing made Peter keep back and….he hated to think it but…wait for permission.

Carl looks at Peter, down at his own drenched clothes, then back up and raises his eyebrows.

“Sorry,” Peter said quickly.

Carl just rolled his eyes and dramatically took off his leather jacket. He threw it on the floor with a clink of metal studs and zippers against the swimming pool tiles. He peeled up his now almost see through top and pulled it over his head. It clung to his skin, reluctant to reveal the tiny strip of dark hair that trailed down his belly and under his boxers. Peter wasn’t sure what he did to deserve this striptease, but now Carl was undoing his flies, looking at Peter and smirking as he pulled down the zipper. Pete was starting to feel light headed. He didn’t know what stopped him from throwing himself at Carl, knocking him to the floor and snogging him silly. He knew with Drew that’s exactly what he’d do. He wondered what made the difference. How Carl could make his feet quite so stuck to the floor with just a look.

Carl chucked his jeans on the floor and Drew arrived on cue with a towel and what appeared to be exactly the same outfit, but dry, and Peter’s clothes from his bedroom. Drew lay them down carefully on a dry deck chair, scooped up the wet clothes and hurried off with them.

“Who are you?” Peter blurted out.

“I’m Carl,” he drawled, drying himself off and, to Peter’s immense disappointment, putting back on his dry clothes. “Haven’t we met?”

Peter rolls his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Hasn’t Drew told you all about me?”

“Not a thing.”

“I would have though your persuasion techniques would be a bit better than that. Aren’t you getting dressed?”

Peter had learnt better than to try and steer things any way other than the direction Carl wants them to go in. He dried himself and started putting on his clothes, wondering just how long Carl’s going to make him wait before he fucks him. He should have known he’d be like this, he was never going to give it to him straight away.

Carl gave him a small smile for his obedience.

“I take it Drew gave you the full tour?”

“He did. The hot tub was a particular highlight.”

Carl smirked.

“It is rather wonderful. He’s been tending to all your needs?”

“Well…nearly all of them.”

Carl laughed.

“Come on, I’m starving, let’s go get some lunch.”

                                                                        *

Peter had thought having Carl away was torture and agony. No, now he knew that having Carl less than a meter away from him and not having him ripping off his clothes is agony. Peter couldn’t explain to anyone why he can’t just lean over the dinner table and rip of Carl’s clothes. He just…knows he doesn’t have permission for that yet. This is Carl’s house, just as the prison was Carl’s prison, and he knows he has to wait until he’s told.

They’re sitting in the library where Peter’s once haven of relaxation and calm has turns into a nightmare of squirming nerves, anticipation and poorly concealed erections. Peter’s is sitting on the floor, his back resting against the soft leather of the arm chair. His legs are stretched out over the rug by the fire, slowly warming. Carl is stretched out like a cat in front of the fire in line with Peter’s legs, his head resting in his lap as they both read their books and drink their tea. Except Peter is not reading his book, he’s staring into the middle distance, taking deep breaths and only occasionally taking sips of his lukewarm tea.

Every now and again Carl shuffles, his head moving in Peter’s lap, brushing agonisingly against Peter’s desperately hard cock. Every time he moves Peter holds his breath, forces himself to keep still and not turn into a quivering mess. Carl knows exactly what he’s doing, of course, knows that Peter is sitting there in agony, waiting, not at all patiently, for Carl to turn his head all the round down and bury his face in his crotch.

“Mmm I’ve missed it here.” Carl sighs wistfully, like he isn’t aware of the situation in Peter’s lap at all.

“It’s a beautiful house,” Peter replies automatically, surprising himself with the ability to make small talk. “I love it in here, it’s so peaceful to sit and read in.”

He runs his fingers through Carl’s hair, wondering if, like before, he’s misread the situation and this is just a test, that Carl actually wants him to throw him against something and fuck him silly. And they told him women were confusing creatures. He chances his luck and runs them down his neck, that olive skin he’s missed so dearly and stops just under his collar, losing his nerve.

Carl looks up at him and raises his eyebrows, clearly amused.

“That’s not reading.”

Peter sighs and takes back his hand.

“So what was it you wanted to know about me, Peter?”

All the questions seem to have vanished from Peter’s head.

“Um…”

Carl laughs.

“See this is why you were no good at getting anything out of Drew.”

He _finally_ puts down his book, his tea, and rolls onto his front, bending his legs up, crossing his feet and looking up at Peter from his lap, all big eyes and tousled hair looking like he fell out of a glamour shoot. His chin on Peter’s throbbing cock.

Peter grits his teeth.

“Carl please,” his whispers through them and Carl’s lips twitched.

“I thought you said Drew had been tending to all your needs.”

“That was at least six hours ago.”

This at least gets a laugh from Carl and he moves, coming to sit astride Peter’s lap, bringing his lips to his ear as he starts to slowly rock his hips back and forth.

“Yeah? Where did you fuck? Tell me.”

Peter groans.

“I…in the dinning room, after breakfast.”

“Yeah? Did he suck you off?”

“Yes,” Peter hisses through his teeth.

“Mmm talented isn’t he, it’s that tongue stud that undoes me…”

Peter whimpers at the memory.

“How did you fuck him?”

“He…got on top of me, like this, on my chair.” Peter is forgetting how to breathe.

“Yeah? Did he pull down both your boxers and ride your cock like a good little slut?”

“Yess…” Carl’s moved his hand down inbetween Peter’s legs, rubbing his cock through his jeans.

“And then?”

“Then I picked him up and fucked him over the table…” Peter talks slowly, the only way he can get out his words.

“Mmm, did he squeal? He loves being fucked like that.”

“Yes…”

“Did you come then?”

“No…I picked him up and fucked him on the floor on his back, his legs on my shoulders…then I came.”

“Did you let him come?”

“No…”

“Oh?” Carl sounds even more interested now.

“No I…” Peter splutters as his tongue struggles to make it’s way round the dirty words. “I made him wait, I told him not to, sucked him off, put my fingers back inside him, till…”

“Till?” Carl prompted.

“Till he started screaming. Then I let him come.”

“How many fingers?”

“Three…”

“Did you swallow?”

“Yeah.”

“Good…wouldn’t want you getting my carpets messy.”

“Carl…” Peter whimpered. “Carl please…”

“Ohh…poor baby. You missed being fucked?”

“Yessss…” Peter groans in his ear.

“Course you did, you filthy little slut…” Carl hissed in his ear and slid down him, buried his face in his crotch again and then promptly stood back and stood up. “Stand up.”

Peter sprung to his feet.

“Take off your clothes. Slowly,” he added, as Peter looked like he was going to rip all his new fancy clothes to shreds.

Peter did the best he could with his shaking fingers, forcing them to undo his shirt buttons properly.

“Drewww…” Carl called.

Peter closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was going to live through this.

“Yes, sir?” Drew appeared at his side in an instant.

“Take Peter to the play room, and get him ready for me, please.”

“Of course, sir,” Drew said without batting an eyelid. “This way.”

Peter had no choice but to follow, walking the long hall ways of Carl’s mansion completely naked, his erection bobbing in front of him ridiculously.

“Drew…”

Drew just smirked at him. God. They must have been planning this for weeks.

“This way, sir.”

Peter was already completely disorientated and had no idea what wing of the house they were in now. He stepped through the door cautiously, not sure what to expect. It looked like a normal if extravagant bedroom at first glance. A tall gold four poster bed sat in the middle, a chesnut writing desk in the corner and a chaise lounge next to the bed with a small coffee table next to it. It had a tray of freshly made tea sitting on it, the steam rising up into the cool room.

“Now…where did he want you…” Drew mused, looking around the room.

It was only then Peter started to notice the hooks in the ceiling, the walls and the floor.

“Oh yes I remember.” Drew beckoned him to the end of the bed. “Face the bed.”

Peter did as he was told, not daring to do otherwise.

“Kneel down.” Drew pushed down on his shoulders and Peter had a sense of power and strength he imagined Drew had been hiding from him these past weeks.

His bare knees hit the wooden floor with a thud.

“Arms out.”

Drew pulled out one of the drawers under the bed, took out a length of black rope and started lashing him, with considerable skill, to the bed post. He came and knelt in between his legs, behind him and pushed his knees apart.

Peter teetered off balance and Drew caught him easily, his hand on his chest.

“Ah lovely, I knew you’d look perfect there.” Carl walked in behind him and came to sit on the chaise lounge, putting his feet up and pouring a cup of tea. “Go on, Drew, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all, sir.”

Peter heard a gravelly edge to his voice he’d not heard before. God help him.

“Did you enjoy taking advantage of my hospitality, Peter?” Drew wrapped one hand round his cock, the fingers of his other creeping in between his legs. “Did you enjoy fucking me? Did I make a good compliant little fuck toy?”

_Fuck._

“You did, don’t lie,” he cut Peter off as he went to reply. “Did you like having a desperate little slut for a pet?”

Peter just whimpered as Drew’s slick fingers started circling his arse.

“I know you did. But it’s not what you needed…was it?”

“I…fuck…”

“Two fingers, Drew.” Carl said from his couch.

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh…” Peter desperately wanted to lean down, to bury his face in the sheets but he was held up by the ropes. He settled for looking down instead, if he looked over at Carl he was sure he’d come in a second.

“Take your time, Drew, it’s been a while, make sure he’s properly ready.”

“I am!” it burst from Peter’s lips without his consent.

They both laughed, Drew’s low and guttural in his ear.

“Slut. You’re ready when I say you’re ready. Now…where do you like it?” Drew pushed his fingers in deeper, different angles until Peter shrieked. “Ah, there.”

Drew moved his fingers painfully slowly, every push of his finger tips on his prostate making Peter realise how much of an act it had been. How wrong he had it all. Drew wasn’t Carl’s pet at all. They were accomplices. Both as bloody bad as each other. His cheeks flushed at having fallen for it so readily.

“Stop,” Peter gasped suddenly. “Don’t I’m… “

Carl threw something across to Drew across the room. Peter didn’t have to look, didn’t want to. He knew exactly what it was. The metal that slid down his cock was still familiar after all this time.

“There, better?” Drew cooed in his ear.

Peter just groaned.

“Three,” Carl said.

“Sir.”

“Ah fuckkk…” Peter moaned, pulling on his ropes, stars threatening his vision.

“I think we need a toy. Just to make sure.”

“Carl no, I, I’m fine honestly please I’m ready I need…”

Drew ignored his ramblings and took something else Carl threw from him across the room.

“God I couldn’t wait to bring you back here and play with you when you got out…” Carl sighed.

Peter took a sharp breath in as Drew pushed the cool silicone inside him.

“What setting would you like, sir?”

Peter made himself look over at Carl, finally. He still had his feet up, a cup of tea in one hand and his cock in the other. Carl looked back at him thoughtfully.  

“High.”

Peter grabbed hold of the ropes and looked away from Carl again.

“But put it up slowly.”

“Ohhhh…” Pete moaned, squirming as Drew turned it up ever so gradually and started to nip at his neck.

Peter closes his eyes as Drew turned it up faster, pumping his cock, holding him on the edge till he was ready to scream. He was ready for it this time. He was very familiar with this edge. He forced himself to breathe, not scream. Ride it. Breathe. He forced himself to enjoy it, he wasn’t going to let them break him this easily. If his time in prison had taught him anything it was that Carl loved him to put up a fight. 

“Mmm you like that Peterr?” Drew purred in his ear.

He could feel his cock digging in the back of his thigh. He decided to play Drew at his own game. He  threw his head back and did the best impression of Drew moaning, getting his accent down to a t.

“Oh yessss….fuckkk please….”

Carl nearly spat out his tea and Drew laughed in his ear, turned it up further and pumped his cock hard. Peter couldn’t help it, he screamed. The white light was so close, that release. Drew didn’t stop. He jumped as he felt a third hand on his shoulder. He snapped his eyes open though he couldn’t remember closing them in the first place.

“Baby…” Carl ran his finger across his collar bone, up his neck, along his jaw line. He’d knelt down next to him, close, Carl’s lips on his left ear, Drew’s teeth on his right, Christ. “Missed me?”

“Yesss…”

“Do you think he has Drew?”

“Definitely. Like a moping puppy.”

Peter managed a side long glare at him.

Carl peered round the back of Peter head.

“You wanna go first or second?”

Peter rolled his eyes and pulled on his arms. He was still slightly dubious about Drew topping anyone, even with all his bravado.

“Hmm.” Drew ran a hand through Peter’s hair, considering. “I think I just want to watch.”

Carl laughed.

“Pervert. Alright. Leave him to me then.”

Drew kissed Peter on the side of the head.

“Good luck sweetheart.”

He went and resumed Carl’s position on the sofa, picking up his tea and adding a lump of sugar, stirring it delicately as he put up his feet and got comfortable.

“Hmm…” Carl ran a hand down his back. “Now how do I want you?”

Peter kept silent, tried not to let his heart run away with him at the feel of Carl’s breath on his neck.

Peter sighed in relief as Carl took out the vibrator, then moved his hands to the knots on his wrists, untying them.

“Keep still.”

Peter let his arms drop to his sides, back to his deep breaths, trying not to whirl round and throw Carl on the floor. Or try to, at any rate. He tried not to forget that Carl was a lot stronger than he looked.

“Well at least you’ve not lost any of your obedience.”

“Don’t fancy my chances against both of you.”

Carl laughed.

“Sensible.”

Carl kissed the rope marks on his wrists then his neck.

“Turn round.”

Carl stood up, guiding Peter’s mouth to his cock. Peter went to grab Carl’s hips but Carl slapped his hands away.

“Keep them by your sides.” 

He nodded and let them dangle, opening his mouth as Carl took a handful of his hair and pushed down. He groaned at the feeling, doing far more to him than the vibrator did. He licked and sucked as much as he could in Carl’s controlling grip, groans spilling from his lips in the most embarrassing way.

Carl muttered his approval above him, holding his head now, thrusting forward. Peter let him, closed his eyes, giving himself to him completely, his arms dangling at his sides, more submissive than he’d ever been tied up in the ropes.

Carl’s grip on his hair got tighter, he felt his legs shudder a little. He was losing himself, Peter could still tell that at least. Sure enough, Carl yanked his head back suddenly, gasping, looking down at Peter like it was all his fault.

He had Peter’s favourite look in his eyes. He was done playing with him, he wanted him now.

Two firm hands on Peter’s shoulders, pushing him down on his back. Peter’s ankles wrapped themselves around Carl’s neck of their own accord, he was sure. And then Carl was filling him up, no further teasing or playing, he buried himself inside him in one hard push, a gasp and his forehead rested against Peter’s. His staggered breath against Peter’s lips. Finally.

“ _Carl!_ Godsake…” Peter groaned as Carl failed to move.

Carl caught his breath and opened his eyes to give Peter a warning look that said he was going to pay for that later. When Carl was done with him.

Peter didn’t care.

Carl started to fuck him, slow, and Peter let his eyes roll back into his head, drowning in everything that he’d missed, the sound of Carl’s shallow breaths, the smell on his skin, his hair tickling Peter’s forehead…being filled. It was the only word he could think of for it. Complete.

“Yeah…yeah…ahhhh fuck yeah…”

It didn’t seem like Carl was having quite such comprehensible thoughts.

“God…I needed this…so bad…Chase is just…not…”

Peter didn’t think he’d ever heard anything quite so enjoyable during sex. He allowed himself a grin.

“Ah…ah…fuck I…”

Peter opened his eyes, confused, as Carl jerked back from him.

“Get back on the bed…no…not like…” Carl huffed, lost patience and threw him over the bed.

“Like _that,_ ” he said as he pushed back inside him. “Yes!”

Peter groaned as Carl pushed him down face first into the bed, his hand firm on the back of his neck and Peter’s knees smack down on the carpet.

“Oh yeah…that’s that’s…”

Peter’s eyes rolled back into his head again, held down tightly, fucked within an inch of his life, he felt like he was finally starting to soothe his soul that had been itching since he left the prison.

“Yes…fuck…oh YES PETER…”

Peter just lay still on the bed as Carl got himself off, jerking back and slamming forward, taking what he wanted. Peter had never felt so calm.

“Fuck! Oh…fuck…fuck…ah…”

He eventually stilled above him and collapsed on his back, kissing him sloppily on his shoulder.

“God. I needed that. Missed you.”

He pulled back and slapped him on the arse.

“Your turn,” he said to Drew.

Peter lifted his head, he’d forgotten Drew was even there. He was still on the sofa, but sitting up, tea long forgotten on the table. He got up and walked over to the bed and pushed him back onto his back, wordlessly straddling him and sliding down on his aching cock. Peter shrieked in surprise, head spinning at the change of sensation, at the speed Drew was riding him. His mind couldn’t keep up. He didn’t bother trying to understand, just tried to lie back and enjoy, trying not scream in frustration at being held on the brink like this for so long.

“Yes…ah fuck…he’s got a lovely cock Carlos…”

“I know.”

Peter blinked.

Almost as suddenly as he’d jumped on him Drew was moving off, throwing himself on the floor and on his hands and knees. It took a while for Peter to work out what he wanted. He wasn’t even sure he could move, but pushed himself forward after, burying himself back inside him and trying to fuck him like he knew he liked it. Or he thought he’d like it. He’d become too confused about what was real and what was part of their charade.

He decided to take the Drew squealing below him at face value, fuck him hard and groaned as Carl crawled inbetweem Drew’s legs and slid his lips down his cock. Peter groaned in jealousy, grabbing Drew’s shoulders, taking his frustrations out on the poor boys arse, digging his own grave.

Drew screamed, loud, as he always did, hips shaking as he came in Carl’s mouth.

Peter was about to start pleading with Carl to take the bloody thing off but for once he didn’t have to ask. Both of them jumped on him at the same time, lips, teeth, nails, everywhere. He was back on his front, a blind fold round his eyes, they were too quick for him. He groaned as one of them, he thought it was Carl, pushed inside him, hard, and fucked him, relentless and tight heat slid back down on his cock, legs wrapped round his waist, round whoever was fucking him’s waist. His head was spinning, he was fairly sure he was screaming, clutching for something to hold onto, anything, when he felt hands on that blood thing, releasing him and…

“Fuuucckkk!” He cried out, coming hard, the tremors endless as everything went white for a second behind his blindfold. Fucking bliss.

He gasped his breath back as the blindfold fell to the floor and he saw Drew underneath him, smirking.

“Was the dishwasher worth waiting for?” Drew asked him.

“What?!”

Peter didn’t have the energy to explain it to Carl, just turned and flopped next to Drew on the floor.

“Don’t ask.”


End file.
